Chapter Sixteen: 

 

I woke up at six-thirty sharp. My alarm went off and blared “Dancing Queen” by ABBA in my ears. Due to the fact I hadn’t got to sleep until ten o’clock last night, I was a wreck. I slapped my phone screen and hoped that would be enough to stop the noise. It didn’t. Finally, I gave up and just turned it off myself. When I glared at the bright screen, I was afraid I would go blind. I angrily hit the stop button and picked out my outfit for the day. 

Scrambling on the floor, with the covers surrounding me, I opened my dresser drawers and found a pair of acid-washed jeans and a lavender shirt with white polka-dots. Once I had hastily changed out of my pajamas, I slid on my sneakers, brushed through my hair, and went downstairs. 

When I reached the living room/kitchen part of the house, I saw Mom was up already and was standing with a bag lunch in her hands. She was in her scrubs — but it’s not even time for her to leave for work. Mom had a smile on her face, which was strange considering our previous events. But she forgave you for it, I reminded myself. That’s what matters. 

“What are you up so early for?” I asked. 

“I heard your alarm go off,” she replied, smiling wider. “So, I made you lunch,” Mom handed me the bag of food she was holding. 

Grabbing my lunch, I said, “Thanks,” Then, I added, “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m up so early?”

“No,” Mom tells me. “I know you’re off to see that boy. What is his name — James?”

“How did you know?”

“Honey, please. After our previous events, I’ve started checking your phone.”

I almost interjected, but then I clamped my mouth shut. She has every reason to be going through my phone. After all, I hijacked her car on multiple occasions and kept secrets from her. She may have forgiven me, but I still have to earn back her trust. 

“I hope you can trust me again at some point,” I say, forcing a smile. 

“I’m sure I will,” Mom replied, turning into the kitchen to make herself some breakfast. “But, for now, you better called your friend Annie to drive you so you’re not late to your meetup with James,”

This time, I smiled genuinely. “Right,”

 

I called Annie and asked her to pick me. She must have been asleep because when she answered, her voice sounded groggy and even moodier than usual. After waiting for about ten minutes, Annie’s black Audi was pulling up in my driveway. 

When I entered the passenger’s side, I realized Annie’s hair was back to the original dark brown. Strapping in my seatbelt, I say, “I see you changed your hair,”

Annie shrugged. “Yeah, I thought it was time for something different. I grew tired of the color quickly.” Then, she added, “Oh! So, you know how Peter White was Alice’s partner for the concert?”

I nodded. “Yes?”

“Well, according to my sources–”

“And who exactly are your ‘sources,’ Annie?”

She frowned and narrowed her eyes at me in annoyance. “Lissa,”

“Okay,” I said, grinning. “You may continue,”

“As I was saying,” Annie said. “According to my sources, after you and James performed last night, Peter totally bailed on their duet! Alice ended up leaving and now she’s not coming to school today because she claims she’s ‘sick.’ So then, as I was going to get the car to drive Lissa home last night, Peter came up to me and asked for a ride since he came with Alice,”

“And?”

“And after I dropped Lissa off and got to his house…” Annie paused for dramatic effect. “He asked me out!”

“What?” I squeaked. “Are you serious?”

“Yes! I know right? It’s so strange! Why would Peter White — the football quarterback — want to ask me, Anneliese Gray — the goth girl — out on a date? It doesn’t make any sense! But, on the other hand, I’ve always kind of had a crush on him.”

“Since when?” I asked. 

“Since….I don’t know. Maybe middle school?”

“Good luck on your date, then,” I said. “When is it?”

“Tonight!”

We screamed in unison this time. Then, Annie shifted the car into reverse and said, “Okay, let’s get moving. I want to stop by the restroom and see if I look presentable enough to confront my” — she paused — “boyfriend!”

 

Once Annie and I reached the school, I took my time walking into the music room today. When I went down the hallway, I saw a trophy case filled with awards for academics, sports, and more of the latter. But, I also saw pictures from the past annual concerts. I scanned through and found the picture of Alice and James performing last year. They looked so young — even though they were only fifteen to sixteen years old. 

Abruptly, I heard music coming down the corridor. I turned and saw the door to the music room was open. I walked toward the noise and, when I entered, I saw James sitting at Miss Kingsley’s piano. He was playing…beautifully. His fingers were dancing over the keys as he kept his eyes glued to the sheet music. I recognized the piece almost instantly: Beethoven’s Piano Sonata. 

“That’s Beethoven,” I blurted, making James stop. 

He turned around, startled a little. “Yeah, it is.” he added, “How did you know?”

“I enjoy listening to classical music.”

James laughed. “Really? You?”

I placed my hands on my hips. “Yes, I do.” Then, I said, “I didn’t know you played the piano,”

“It’s a hobby I kind of like to keep private,” he says. James juts his chin at me. “Come over here. I want to show you something,”

Obediently, I walk over to the piano. James scoots over on the bench to make room for me. I sit down next to him and he places his tan, soft hands on the keys. I would have thought James’ hands were callused, considering he plays guitar and is…male. It seemed pretty stereotypical, but I just always assumed that about him. I guess I was wrong. 

“This,” James says, playing the key in the middle of the piano. “Is middle C.”

I pressed down on the note with my finger, hearing the sound echo from the piano. “Wow,” I said dryly. “So interesting. Is this what you wanted me to meet you here for?”

James frowns at me. “That’s just one key, Halo,” he said. “There’s so much more to the piano than playing a single note,”

“Like what?” I press. 

He starts pressing down on random keys, but somehow still making beautiful music. James then stops and says, “When you’re up there playing the piano, it’s just you and the instrument. Whenever my hands glide over the keys, I feel like I’m in a different world. I feel like I’m by myself and I’m fully expressing myself musically. It’s almost like you’re conveying your emotions with every note and every chord.” he turns to me. “That’s why the piano is so much more than you think,”

I clap slowly. “Wow. James Middleton: the modern-day Edgar Allen Poe, everyone,”

James chuckles. “Yeah, I guess I’m pretty passionate about the piano,” he added, “but I’ve never played in front of anyone so I guess I don’t always get to express those things. I mostly just feel them when I’m playing by myself,”

“Why haven’t you performed before?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s a little strange that a guy my age feels that way when he’s just playing the piano? I mean, it’s just an instrument.”

“James,” I began, dipping my chin. “Nothing is as strange as a former delinquent performing a Lady Gaga song in front of hundreds of people,”

“Nah,” James replied, shifting his focus back to the piano. “That’s just cool,”

I laughed lightly. “Can you teach me some more notes?”

He smiles. “Sure,” then, he gestures to the keys. He presses down on the second key on the left side of the piano. The noise echoes in my ears. “That is D.”

“Wait,” I said. I know the different notes: I can read sheet music. You’re in choir for crying out loud, Halo. “I can do this.”

James slides the sheet music down to me. I adjust the stand so that I can read it correctly. After studying the staff for a few moments, my hands start dancing over the keys. It didn’t sound as beautiful as James (since I was going at a slower tempo) but it was close enough for my first time playing. It sounded somewhat like Beethoven though. Who am I kidding? No one is as good as Beethoven was. And he was deaf! How can anyone top that?

“How did you know all the key placements?” James asked, hearing a hint of wonder in his voice. 

“Maybe because there are labels on the keys?” I replied, jutting my chin to the keys on the piano that had letters taped over them. Even Miss Kingsley needs a reminder now and then. 

James interjects. “Hold on,” he begins to place his hands on top of mine, but then freezes. “Do you mind?”

I shake my head hesitantly. “No,”

James’ hands rested over mine — they were warm. It felt like someone had laid their palms over a crackling fireplace. He guides my hands over the keys, slowly, but giving me tips along the way on how to increase my pace to the required tempo.

 “If you want to play the piano, you need to keep your shoulders straight. But also, you need to bend your fingers,” His tan, soft fingers gently flexed mine, giving me the proper piano playing technique. 

“Like this?” I asked, playing a handful of the notes listed on the sheet music. 

James releases his hands and places them on the other side of the piano. “Yes, exactly. Remember to keep your posture straight, though,” He begins playing the same notes on his side, making the outcome sound beautiful. 

Never, in a million years, would I have thought I would be playing a Beethoven song with someone on the piano. That was one of those things where you would dream and hope for it, but you knew deep down it was impossible. 

This musical moment between the two of us was different than when we performed at the concert. It was amazing, I’m sure James and I would admit, but this felt…more passionate. At the concert, I was belting and James was jamming out on the guitar. The two of us were having fun — which was the point of the concert in the first place, I’m sure. 

Now I know what James meant when he said playing the piano lets you express your emotions. As my fingers danced over the keys with him, I felt as if I was water spilling out of a cup — I just kept letting my feelings pool out into the music. I was using ferocity every time I got to a point in the song I felt like I could resonate with. 

But, the emotions I was feeling with the music…I wasn’t sure what they were. It was something I had never felt before. For some reason, as we were playing, whenever I gazed over at James, I felt the need to play more fiercer and more lively. My heart would start beating along with the music in loud thumps against my ribs. 

I saw James in a different light just now. I no longer saw him as some British, green giant I bumped into on the first day of school. I no longer saw him as the popular guy who flirts with every girl he meets. I immediately thought of last night when he joked about saying he loved me. I had said it back, but I was only teasing too. 

What if…

No. 

But what if you weren’t joking–

He’ll just leave you! Just like Dad. 

Would James ever leave me? It didn’t seem like something to ever happen. 

I bet Mom felt that same way. 

Stop!

If I keep arguing with myself, and if I keep bringing up issues from the past, I’ll never actually confront my emotions. What I was feeling with James right now, I know it’s different from what I felt around him before. My heartbeat was stronger; I was being lively; I was expressing my emotions into the music. 

Oh my Lord. 

Do I love James? 

A million questions swirled through my mind. What are you thinking? Did you get enough sleep last night? Is this how you really feel? Does he love you back?

“Yes,”

“What?” I yelled, abruptly my fingers froze on the keys. 

James chuckles. “Relax. I guess I was answering the question you asked me earlier — when you asked if teaching you the chords was why I brought you here.”

“And…it is?” I asked, my voice sounding meek. 

James stops playing too and turns to face me. “Well, to an extent. I wanted to bring you here because I think you have potential. You have the vocal talent and you have the knowledge beforehand on reading sheet music. But also…” his voice drifts off. “I wanted to share with you my passion for the piano because….I trust you, Halo.”

“You…trust me?”

“More than any of my soccer buddies, for that matter,”

“So, that’s how it feels to be appreciated these days,” I jokingly muse, my voice returning to its snarkiness. “What a wondrous discovery,”

James laughs. Then, the first bell rings, signaling for all the students to report to their first class of the day. James and I hop off the piano bench and he grabs his bag near the door of the music room. When we’re just about to head to first period, I stop short. James turns around and looks at me, wondering why I halted. 

“Why did you stop?” he asked. “We’re gonna be late,”

“I just wanted to say that I had fun this morning,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “Could we do this every day?”

His eyes widened, surprised I asked him such a thing. “Uh, yeah, sure,” James stutters. 

I smiled and cocked my head to the side like a little girl. “Yay!”

I catch up with James as we walk to Geometry together. He turns to me and says, “Please never say ‘yay’ again,” with a smile on his face. 

I jump up and shout into the hallway, “James just loves the word ‘yay,’ everyone!”

All of the cowardly freshmen just stare at me like I’m one of those questionable people you meet on a subway. I snicker, covering up my mouth from laughing exotically. James just shakes his head at me, obviously admiring my antics, but acting like he’s too mature for it at the same time. 

“Halo Nelson,” he says. “There is no denying you from doing anything,”